


No Calls

by EmeraldChick96



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: F/M, Freddie was abused, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Self Harm References, Short Chapters, angst with happy ending
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-13 17:21:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 15
Words: 15,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29157321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldChick96/pseuds/EmeraldChick96
Summary: The band knows Freddie wants to put his heart and soul into his solo album, and everyone is happy for him when he flits off to Munich. But when he suddenly stops taking their calls, everyone is worried. The Freddie that Mary brings home is not the Freddie that they remember, something was done to him. Can the band save him? Can Mary? Can Miami? Can an Irish hairdresser who Freddie met at a bar? Or will Freddie sink into oblivion forever?
Relationships: Freddie Mercury/Paul Prenter, Jim Hutton/Freddie Mercury, Mary Austin/Freddie Mercury
Comments: 14
Kudos: 18





	1. Chapter 1

The band was having lunch, and Freddie had something on his mind. He wasn’t scared to tell them, he was just nervous. He was very good on piano, not many people could play it upside down and backward. He was also decent at the guitar. He couldn’t outperform Brian or John, by any means, but he knew enough to write the songs. Also, he was trying to get the hang of the drums, but Roger would still look at him like he was an idiot when he was talking to him. Sort of a, ‘fuck off and mind your own business Freddie, I wouldn’t dream of telling you how to play the piano’. So around the end of 1984 beginning of 1985, Freddie decided he wanted to make a solo album.

“I think it is time,” said Freddie at lunch, “For me to get a little experimental.”

“A little experimental?” asked Roger. “Freddie we put quarters on our drums for our demo at the university.”

“That wasn’t the weirdest thing we did,” said Deaky. “Besides you said we were getting a little experimental when you wrote Rhapsody.”

“Okay, Okay,” said Freddie. “We have been experimental since the beginning, but I think I need to do something different. I want to do a solo album.”

“Oh no,” said Roger.

“It’s time for champagne in glass slippers,” said Deaky.

“You don’t think I can do it?” asked Freddie.

“No,” said Brian. “We know you will do it so well that everyone will stop buying our records. Are you going to produce at EMI?”

“No CBS. They have a production company in Munich, that’s where all the musicians are going to be.”

“Wait, you're going to Munich? Again?” asked Deaky.

“Yes, and I am taking Paul.”

“How long will you be gone?” asked Brian.

“As long as it takes to record the album.”

“That can be a year,” said Brian. “Take Miami too.”

“No, no, if I take Miami, no one will stop you lot from squabbling over where to eat every day. I’ll take Paul, go to Munich, record the album, and be back in time for Easter. We can all go to church together.”

“Freddie if you stepped inside a church you would burst into flames,” smiled John.

Freddie slapped him, “And I suppose you’re an altar boy!” he cried, laughing.

“Okay,” said Brian, “go to Munich and make your album. I am sure it will be amazing, but if you take too long we are coming down to get you.”

Freddie worked hard on his album. He wrote twenty songs for it and was going to cut it down to ten, and couldn’t help himself but snuck an eleventh onto the album. When Mack said there were going to do a bonus track Freddie got excited and added three more tracks. Freddie had Paul take his calls while he and Mack worked on the album, but if it was Mary, Miami, or the band, Paul was to put them through. As the weeks went by, no one called Freddie. Not even Mary on their anniversary, which Freddie found odd, she always called him or talked to him then.

“Mary and I started dating today,” said Freddie to Mack, “I stole her from Brian. We usually do something special or at least call each other, no matter where we are.”

“Call her, she probably thinks that you are too busy to take a call. She thinks she is bothering you, so call her. Tell her happy anniversary.”

“No, she is engaged to that bloke Piers. They probably have their own anniversary by now. Come on, let’s finish this track.”

One of the things Freddie enjoyed about Paul was he had good taste in wine. Paul had a lot of people over to party one evening and they were all strangers to Freddie which really bothered him, but Freddie had good wine, so he enjoyed that at least. Freddie sat by the piano and played softly ‘Love of My Life,’ sipping on his wine, feeling very lonely without the band and Mary around him. Suddenly, a woman, gorgeous women that Roger would have liked, long legs, tight ass, great rack, black hair, came and sat next to him.

“Are you lonely, Freddie?” she slurred.

“I actually much rather be alone,” said Freddie.

“Perhaps you should be alone with me.”

“If you can stand, walk away.”

“Why?”

“I prefer blonds.”

“Hmph.” And she stood up and stumbled away.

Freddie blew out a sigh of relief and relaxed, but then a hand crept over him, and someone whispered softly in his ear, “Is that what you prefer Freddie?”

Freddie’s heart raced and he looked to see Paul standing over him with an evil grin on his face. “Is that what you prefer?”

Freddie remembered this very scene being at a piano, playing ‘Love of My Life’, and no one around, at least who cared about him, to stop Paul.

“Paul,” whispered Freddie. “Let’s not do this. Please.”

Paul shut the piano, and pinned Freddie against it in his arms, and kissed him hard. Freddie pushed on Paul’s chest and shook his head.

“Paul we’re drunk, its a party, I’m trying to work. Let’s not do this.”

“William, Robert, Micheal, Jimmy,” whispered Paul. “I know them all Freddie. I could ruin you so when I say we are doing this, you ask how many times!”

Freddie felt his heartbeat in his ears, and finally, he said, “how many times?”

“Only a thousand tonight. Come on.” And Paul leads Freddie upstairs.

A couple of weeks past and Paul was running Freddie ragged between the parties, the abusive sex, and the long hours in the studios. Freddie was coming down with some sort of a cold because he wasn’t getting enough rest and his voice was being affected.

“Fred,” said Mack, “Go home, get some rest, drink some tea, eat some soup, take your temperature. We’ll try this in a few days. We got plenty of time.”

“I sound like shit,” said Freddie.

“Your sick mate,” said Mack. “You’re not resting enough. Brian would kick your ass if he was here right now.”

“Okay, I’ll go rest.”

“Remember,” Mack shouted as Freddie left the studio, “Vodka does not count as water!”

“Oh you’re taking all the fun out of it,” whined Freddie.

They both laughed, and Freddie went home. When he got there he made himself some Earl Grey tea, and he sipped on it at the breakfast bar. Then when he felt a little bit warmer, he put on a pot of soup. He didn’t have time to make one of the good soups that his mom made, so he simply made a can of vegetable soup they got from the market. As he was stirring, Paul walked in.

“What are you doing home in the middle of the day?” asked Paul.

“It’s my house,” said Freddie calmly.

“Right of course. But is something wrong?”

“I have a cold. You can’t sing with a cold, at least record. I could perform I suppose, but anyway. I just need to rest. Been burning the candles at both ends.”

“You sound fine to me.”

“Mack sent me home. He wants me to rest through the weekend and come back on Monday.”

“Are you sure you have a cold?”

“I am sniffling and wheezing. What do you call it?”

“Maybe you just don’t want to finish the album.”

“What?” said Freddie turning around.

“Maybe you can’t do it. Brian’s done one, Deaky’s done one, Roger’s done two, and you try one and catch a cold. Maybe you are just too old to be doing this anymore.”

Freddie didn’t know if he was hurt or outraged but he was one of the two. He reached for his cellphone and called Mack.

“I’m feeling better, I’ll be there in twenty,” he said. “Yes, I am sure. I want to start with ‘Fooling Around’.” He snapped his cellphone and glared at Paul. “I’ll show you too old.”

“That’s the spirit,” grinned Paul.


	2. Chapter 2

The dream was pretty vivid. The day was hot and Mary was in some unknown location walking down the street of a beautiful city. There was no one with her and she walked through the square. Then suddenly in the square, she saw someone, whose back was turned to her, but when she was coming upon him, she recognized him.

“Freddie,” she cried.

He turned and waved.

She ran to him, and they hugged. “Oh Freddie,” she said. “Where are we? This is beautiful.”

Freddie opened his mouth, but nothing came out. 

“Freddie, are you alright?”

Freddie shook his head and clutched his throat.

“You can’t speak!”

“Help me!” Freddie mouthed.

Mary sat up in bed panting. Beside her, her boyfriend Piers moaned and reached for her.

“Mary darling,” said Piers. “Did you have a nightmare?”

“I’m going to Germany,” said Mary, and she got up and started packing.

Piers rolled over. “Mary, it’s three fifteen in the morning.”

“My husband is sick,” said Mary, putting the suitcase lightly on the bed to not disturb Piers and started throwing things in it.

“What?” said Piers fully awake. “Your married?”

“Not legally. I told you about Freddie.”

“How do you know Freddie is sick?”

“Same way I knew he was- I mean the same way I knew it was time for us to break up, I just know.”

“Do you want me to go with you?”

“No. Stay here and take care of the garden.”

“I’ll call the airlines,” said Piers.

“Thank you, honey.”

There was a two o’clock nonstop to Munich, and Piers got the ticket with Mary’s money. Piers went with Mary to take a cab to the airport, and he saw her on the plane. Mary said she would phone when she got to Freddie’s residence.

It was raining when Mary drove up to the house that Freddie was renting during his stay in Munich. She rang three times before someone opened the door, and it was Freddie himself. Freddie looked very pale, with deep circles under his eyes, his black hair was in a mess, and he was shaking, she couldn’t tell if it was from the cold or low blood sugar.

“Mary,” he said. “What? How? Come in out the rain for fuck sake, love.”

Mary came in, and he took her coat and umbrella.

“I wish I knew you were coming,” he said, clearing some empty beer bottles off the table and throwing them away, and clearing the couch off, his hands shaking. “Paul runs this place like a university fraternity house. All fun and games until your friends show up.”

“Why are you shaking?” she said.

“Oh, I think I had a whole pot of coffee this morning,” said Freddie.

“Why?”

“Didn’t get any rest last night.”

Mary grabbed Freddie’s hands, which were very warm, and she locked eyes with him for a minute. “You’re not well, Freddie,” she whispered.

Freddie let out a heavy breath. “The album is finished. Paul just wants me here for the production and then I can go home to London.”

The door busted open, and several men came in and singing away and Mary could tell that they were drunk off their asses.

“Make yourselves at home, boys,” said Paul. “Freddie, where are you my little- Oh hello Mary. To what do we owe this pleasure?”

“I came to see Freddie,” said Mary. “I am sure that is allowed.”

“Of course.”

“He told me that the album is finished.”

“Yes, it’s smashing.”

“Very good then there is no point in Freddie being here. I am taking him back to London tomorrow. I want him to see an English doctor.”

“There is nothing wrong with Freddie.”

“He has a cough and fever from what I can tell, and I have only been here twenty minutes. He might have the flu or worse.”

“I’ll take him to the doctor tomorrow.”

“No, I will take him home and then take him to the doctor.”

“Mary, you are being ridiculous. Let Freddie decide. Do you want to leave Freddie?”

Mary looked at Freddie and his eyes bounced back and forth between Mary and Paul.

“I am having fun here, Mary. And I think it is just a fever, it will go away,” said Freddie.

“Freddie,” whispered Mary.

“You didn’t call Mary. You didn’t call on our anniversary. You always call and you didn’t,” Freddie said shuffling his feet.

“Freddie,” cried Mary. “I called three times. Paul got the phone and said you were working!”

“Liar!” said Paul. “I gave Freddie every call he got. You never called once.”

“Freddie I called three times!” cried Mary with tears streaming down her cheeks.

“It doesn’t matter Mary,” said Freddie. “It’s over. I’m not going home, you can show yourself out.”

Mary cried but she picked up her jacket and her purse. Sniffling, she started walking towards the door. She put on the jacket and open the door, then the umbrella. Finally, she stepped out into the rain, but then she turned back. 

“If he works himself to death under your watch,” she said to Paul, “You will have worse than me to deal with.”

“Mary go!” shouted Freddie, and the door closed.

“Fuck,” said Paul. “Women, they’re not good for anything anymore.”

“All she had to do was say that she forgot our anniversary, and was sorry. I mean I didn’t call her either.”

“Pride, pure pride.”

“It’s not like Mary to just lie.”

“People change.”

“Wait a minute. I have been here a year. A Christmas, a birthday, an easter, a damn valentine’s day, a whole fucking year, and I haven’t heard from anyone. Not even Miami to see how the album is doing or Sharron. I at least hear from Sharron once or twice a month. And my mum always calls me on my birthday.”

“Who is Sharron?”

“None of your business. Why has no one called me in a year?”

“Um.”

“You think I am so stupid that I couldn’t figure it out!”

“You were busy.”

“Is that what you told my mum? I am too busy to talk to her on my birthday! I wasn’t even working on my birthday!”

“No, you know what you were doing, you little whore? You were fucking me! And I got photographs. So if you think things are going to change around here your wrong.”

“Do what you want with your photographs, but I am getting my life back tonight!”


	3. Chapter 3

Note: I used Google translate for the german

Mary was sleeping at the hotel, well crying herself to sleep. She would forget about Freddie and go home to her boyfriend Piers and it would all be okay. If Freddie wanted to believe Paul’s pack of lies then that was fine with her. She would get over him, she had before.

There was a knock at her door. Opening her eyes she looked at the clock and saw it was 11:23 at night. She got up and slipped on her robe. Making her sobs settle down to soft tears, she dried up, and walked over and opened the door slightly. 

She gasped at Freddie’s form shivering, dripping wet, and coughing.

“Did you walk here?!” she asked incredulously.

“Yeah huh,” nodded Freddie.

“It is pouring outside! Oh my god. Get in here!”

“I think I’m sick,” moaned Freddie, walking into the hotel room.

“So you went for a walk in the rain? You idiot!”

“Please help me.”

“Freddie, where am I gonna find you dry clothes? You're gonna catch your death in that!”

“Mary,” moaned Freddie.

“I am going to the store to find you some dry clothes, a thermometer, and some medicine. I'll be back in thirty minutes. In the meantime, take a hot shower, dry off good, wrap yourself in a robe, and drink some water.”

Freddie moaned and started shuffling towards the shower. Mary ran out the door. She had no idea where in hell she was going to find some clothes for Freddie or medical supplies, and she asked the concierge who thankfully spoke English, and he directed her to a small store down the street. She bought several jeans in Freddie’s size, and three shirts, one white, one black, and one navy, and a couple of cotton boxers and socks. She also bought two pairs of pajamas. She paid, then went to the drug store around the corner. She found the thermometer fine, but she could not understand anything for a cold or flu.

“I am looking for something for influenza or cold,” said Mary to the pharmacist.

“Kann ich dir helfen?” asked the pharmacist.

“Oh,” cried Mary.

“Josephine, komm her!”

A young girl came out of the back looking about twenty years old.

“Englisch,” said the man.

“Hi,” said the girl. “Can I help?”

“I think my friend might have a cold. He was in the rain, and he was walking in it for a long while, and now he has a fever, cough, chills, and a headache.”

"Ich denke, mein Freund könnte eine Erkältung haben. Er war im Regen, und er ging eine lange Zeit darin, und jetzt hat er Fieber, Husten, Schüttelfrost und Kopfschmerzen,” translated the girl.

"Er hat keine Erkältung,” said the pharmacist. “Er hat Grippe. Halten Sie ihn im Bett, geben Sie ihm Essen, lassen Sie ihn Paracetamol zwei Tabletten, alle sechs Stunden. Wenn sein Fieber nicht in drei Tagen verschwunden ist, rufen Sie einen Arzt an."

“He doesn’t have a cold,” translated the daughter. “He has influenza. Keep him in bed, give him food, let him have Paracetamol two tablets, every six hours. If his fever is not gone in three days, call a physician.”

The pharmacist gave Mary the medicine and she bought a thermometer, and the girl told her it was ten dollars for that and the medicine which she paid. Mary thanked them and took the medicine back to the hotel. 

When Mary got there, Freddie was in a robe, coughing into a tissue, which he balled up and threw away into the wastebasket.

“Well, I got some clothes, and some medicine, and a thermometer,” said Mary.

“All at the same store?”

“Oh hush,” she said. “Come on get into some dry clothes.”

Freddie went into the bathroom and changed into some pajamas, since it was close to midnight, and when he came out Mary took his temperature which was 39.2 degrees Celsius. Healthy people ran 37 degrees even.

“You're feverish. You can take some tablets now and then again in the morning around six.”

Freddie moaned but nodded. He popped the tablets in his mouth and drank the water.

“Mary,” said Freddie.

“Yeah.”

“I think I’m sick.”

Mary smiled. “I know you are Freddie. That is why I am here. I am going to make you better before we go home.”

“No,” said Freddie. “I think something is wrong with me.” 

“What do you mean?”

Freddie coughed. “I don’t want to scare you but I am coughing blood.”

“We have to take you to a hospital.”

“No,” moaned Freddie. “Let me go home where they know English and we can pay them money for keeping it out of the press. When is our flight?”

“It’s best not to fly when you have a fever,” said Mary.

“You didn’t bring the band plane?”

“No.”

“This is ridiculous.” Freddie picked up the phone and called a number. “Miami, it’s Freddie. The album is done and I am sick. I want to come home. Mary says we can’t fly until I am better, which may take a week… Um, its the Munich International Airport. I don't know the address…. So thirty minutes for proper take off, two hour flight, and thirty minute for landing. Okay. Thank you. You're a godsend, darling.” Freddie put the phone down. “The band plane will be here in eight hours to pick us up.”

“Do you ever not get your way?”

“Not if I can help it.”


	4. Chapter 4

Freddie coughed out in the wind waiting for the plane to arrive.

“When we get home,” said Mary, “Your going to the doctor.”

“It’s a cold.”

Finally the plane landed, the doors opened and Freddie and Mary walked into what they assumed would be an empty cabin, but it was not.

“Hello!” came the corus from the band and Miami.

Freddie laughed at seeing his friends again, and he half ran down the plane to greet them.

“He’s alive,” cried Roger.

“Haha, barely. I have a cold and I used to have a temperature, but it broke this morning.”

“How long were you sick?” asked Brian.

“Oh, I don't know. Coughed blood about a week ago, but I didn’t feel bad.”

“Are you insane?” cried Roger.

“Coughed blood!” cried Brian.

“Freddie!” cried Mary.

“It’s fine,” said Freddie. “I’m sure it’s just the flu.”

“How many times have you had the flu?” asked Brian.

“I’m fine!” cried Freddie.

“Why didn’t you ever ring?” asked Deaky.

“Well, you never rang me,” said Freddie.

“Are you fucking mad!” cried Roger.

“What do you mean we never rang you,” said Brian. “Lu-Lu rang on her birthday. I had to hold her when she cried in my arms-”

“We rang you all the time Freddie, you never rang back,” yelled Deaky.

“I think there is a culprit here,” said Miami. “But I don’t think it is Freddie.”

“Who?” asked Brian.

“Well, quite possibly, it's me,” said Miami.

“What?” said Freddie.

“I met Paul when he was young, and I knew his interest in men. When we signed Queen, I took him at his word that he was going to be completely professional, and Freddie paid the price. I don’t know exactly what happened, and I don’t know if Freddie will ever tell us what happened, but I can tell that Paul crossed a line, more than once, and he was taking Freddies calls so Freddie couldn’t get out of the situation. That is why Freddie has been so aloof, and eventually we had to come and get him. Paul had him exactly where he wanted him.”

“Wait,” said Mary. “Paul is gay?”

Freddie nodded.

“How did you know?” demanded Brian.

“He came on to me as we were writing ‘A Night at the Opera’.”

“That was ten years ago!” cried Brian. “I can’t kill him now! I mean I can but I have to explain it to the police!”

“What did he do?” asked Mary.

“Just kiss me,” said Freddie quietly, “He didn't, we didn’t, nothing happened til Munich.”

“What happened?” asked Miami.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” said Freddie.

“Sit down Freddie,” said Miami. “Here is some water. I know you want some champagne but you're still sick so water is best.”

Freddie drank the refreshing water and he felt a little bit better from everything. He didn’t know what to say to everyone about Paul so he let the subject drop.

“The album is finished,” said Freddie. “They will release it at the end of April.”

“How do you feel about it?” asked Brian.

“I feel good about it. It’s got some good stuff I think. It doesn’t sound like Queen, it sounds totally different. Got some pop songs, got some rock songs.”

“Want to make another one?” suggested Roger.

“Nope. I’m exhausted.”

Miami laughed. “You wrote and recorded twenty tracks and then made three music videos in about two and a half years, you should be exhausted. Time to come home and rest.”

“Hey, is Queen doing anything for a while?” whispered Freddie as the other band members talked.

“You mean touring or something?” asked Deaky.

“Yeah?”

“No,” said Brian.

“I might need to um, rest you know and get over this.”

“Of course,” said Brian.

* * *

Freddie went to the hospital, and waited in the waiting room.

“Hello?” said the nurse.

“Um, I was coughing up blood a few days ago, and I need to just get a check up,” said Freddie.

“How much blood?”

“A few droplets.”

“Were you running a fever?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay come on back.”

Shocked that he didn’t have to wait, Freddie came back, where they took his height and weight, and took his temperature. Then they took him into a room, and made him wait. In about ten minutes, a doctor came in.

“Hi, I am Dr. Moore. I see that you were coughing up blood a few days ago.”

“Yeah. I had a fever, and a cough, and it was basically a bug, but I was coughing up blood.”

“How long did it last?”

“About forty-eight hours. I was in Germany and I took some medicine.”

“Can you remove your clothes, I want to check something.”

“For a fever?”

“Yes.”

Freddie took off his shirt and his jeans, and yes his underwear, as the doctor instructed, and the doctor searched his body, for what, Freddie didn’t know.

“Alright you can put them back on.”

“What was the point of that?” asked Freddie.

“Being cautious,” said the doctor. “I am going to look into your eyes, nose and mouth.” The doctor took a light and shone it in Freddie’s eyes and nose, and then looked in his mouth.

“Is your mouth sore?”

“A little from the fever.”

“You have a small lesion in it.”

“What the hell?”

“I want you to make a follow up appointment with Dr Peters. He is an excellent hematologist.”

“Why do I need a hematologist?”

“You are showing all the signs and symptoms of AIDS virus.”

“AIDS?”

“We can test you here and have the results sent to Peters.”

“AIDS? Test?”

“Here pull up your sleeve, and I’ll get the nurse to test you.” The doctor left, and Freddie just sat there like a statue. 

“AIDS? Test?” he mumbled.

“Hey, sweetie,” said the nurse. “Just gonna get a little bit of blood here. Can you make a fist?...Honey, can you make a fist?”

Slowly, Freddie formed a fist so he could punch someone. “AIDS? Test?” he mumbled.

The nurse drew four vials of blood, and then bandaged Freddie up. “Okay sweetie, eat a cookie, and then you can go home...Darling, you okay to drive?”

Freddie tried to get up.

“No no no. Eat the cookies first. Get your sugar up.” she assed Freddie, and put a hand on his head which was cold and clammy. “Jack!”

“Yeah!” came in a tech.

“Someone needs to come get him. Look at his Emergency Contact and call them.”

“No call Miami,” said Freddie.

“Who is Miami?”

“My… friend.” Freddie gave them the number.

The nurse called flip cell phone.

“Hello is this Miami?” she said. “Hi, Freddie Mercury is at St. Mary Hospital, and we were doing routine blood work, and he about passed out. I don’t think he is well enough to drive, can you come pick him up? He asked for you specifically...Okay. We are in the emergency department. Thank you.”

“He will be here in twenty minutes,” said the nurse.

Freddie nodded and laid down.


	5. Chapter 5

Freddie said nothing as Miami helped him in the car. Miami drove Freddie home in his Mercedes, with the promise that they would come back for Freddie’s car once he was feeling better. When they got to Freddie’s house, Miami led Freddie back to his room, but Freddie told his maid Janet that he wanted to be alone, no calls from anyone, Mary, the boys, Mac, no one.

“Alright Freddie,” said Miami, sitting him down on his bed. “You look like you have seen a ghost.”

“I went to this hospital for this flu bug thing that I have.”

“Yeah.”

“And they tested me for AIDS.”

Miami said nothing for a minute.

“It takes three days to get the results,” said Freddie.

“Okay,” said Miami. “What do you want to do over the next three days?”

“Get drunk off my ass and dont talk to anyone.”

“I can arrange that.”

“I’m not scared to die,” whispered Freddie.

“Let's work on the next step. It’s nearly one o’clock, are you hungry?”

“Yeah.”

“You want to go get fish and chips?”

“Sure. You drive. I don’t feel normal.”

“Okay.”

* * *

Miami took Freddie to a nice restaurant where Freddie could wear his shares and jacket and just blend in. Freddie ate his cod and french fries with a nice coke, and he tried to relax but he was on edge the whole time. What the hell was he going to tell his band? Or Mary? Or his family? Freddie choked on his cod, and started to cough.

“Hey, hey breath,” said Miami. “It’s going to be okay, just take a deep breath. You don't even know who is singing.”

Freddie cocked his head and listened, “Us. Crazy Little Things.”

“You almost sound like Elvis in this one. People don’t believe it's a Queen song.”

“I was playing with my voice.”

“I always wanted to ask you a question.”

“What?”

“What were you doing in that bathtub?”

Freddie smirked. “Nothing unusual...for me.”

Miami laughed. “”How’s the cod?”

“Good. How’s your hotdog?”

“Great.”

Freddie moaned and threw down his fish. “Oh god, he cried. “Am I gonna feel like this all the time? Like the ground is just going to swallow me up or something?”

“No. You're not going to go anywhere.”

“I hear it hurts like shit.”

“Freddie, whatever happens, we are right here with you, your band, your friends, your family, all of us are here.”

“You think I am going to tell anyone about this? Are you insane?”

“Freddie, do you know how they treat it?”

“It doesn’t have a cure.”

“It has a treatment. They can't stop it but they can slow it down.”

“Oh, how?”

“Really rough antibiotics. You're going to need caregivers.”

“No, I can take care of myself.” Freddie took a bit of his fish, and washed it down with some coke. “And maybe I don’t have it.”

Miami drove Freddie home, and parked in the garage.

“Alright, can I stay in Lily’s room?” asked Miami. “I like Lily’s room.”

“What?” asked Freddie.

“Do you want me to stay with you, or you want Brian or Mary to come over. I don't think Roger or John should help just yet. John would cry the whole time and Roger would join you instead of supervise.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Well, you said that you wanted to get drunk out of your mind while you wait for the results. And I don't think that you should be alone while you do that, so who do you want with you?”

“I’m an ass when I drink.”

“No you're not. In fact none of you are. Freddie you are entertaining and funny, but you're not an ass.”

“Why are you staying with me?”

“You're not going through this by yourself, Freddie. You need someone with you. Now it can be me, or Mary, or someone in the band. But you are not getting shitfaced for three days by yourself while you're scared out of your mind.”

“Fine, you stay here, and of course you can have Lily’s room.”

“I am going to go home and get a few changes of clothes. You want to come with me or will you be alright?”

“God, I am not going to burn the house down. Go!”

“Okay.”

Miami left, and Freddie went to the living room to watch a little television. He sat on the couch and turned on the tele.

“Recently, we have seen AIDS diagnoses skyrocket as more testing has been confirming positive. Health authorities has discovered that this virus has been spread through unsafe sexual conduct-”

“Fuck,” cried Freddie and changed the channel.

“Oh holy God, we pray for these lost children who have strayed so far from you and have contracted this horrible disease,” prayed the preacher.

“Christ sake,” said Freddie, flipping the channel.

“You know what,” said a talk show lady. “If I tested positive for this virus, I would get drunk, and then high and then drunk again, because something is gonna kill me!”

Freddie left the couch and wandered into the kitchen. He poured himself a glass of wine, and then thought better of it and took a large sip of the bottle.


	6. Chapter 6

Warning: self-harm thought and actions

* * *

“Freddie,” came a voice faint and distant. “Freddie.”

Freddie moaned, and turned to find himself on the hardwood floor. He rolled over and saw his bandmates and Mary standing over him.

“Good morning,” said Mary.

“What in God's name are you doing here?” asked Freddie.

“Do you want to have breakfast?” asked Mary.

Freddie’s stomach lurched. “I don’t want to have anything.”

“We need to be at the studio in an hour,” said Brian.

“What day is it?” asked Freddie.

“Tuesday.”

“I told Miami yesterday I am taking til Friday off. Unless I was drunk a week.”

“Well, if your only reason is a hangover-”

“That’s not my only reason.”

“Then what is it?”

“I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to see you til Friday. I might not be in until Monday, depending on how I feel.”

“You mean depending on how much champagne you had.”

“Brian, fuck off! You know where the door is!”

“Freddie, this isn’t like you,” cried Mary, bending down to help him to his feet.

Freddie recoiled, and got to his feet alone, unsteadily. “Mary, go home!” he snapped.

“Don’t be cross with her, Fred,” snapped back Brian. “You're the one making an ass of yourself and she is coming to your defense. I am willing to let you wallow in your self pity.”

“Get out!” bellowed Freddie waving his arm toward the door.

“What?” cried Mary.

“Fred, you are loosing your God fucking mind!” cried Roger.

“Yes I am and I prefer to do it in peace! Now get the hell out!”

“If you tell us what is wrong Freddie,” cried Deaky. “Then maybe you can help.”

“No because none of you have the damn capacity to help!”

“What the hell is this?” cried Brian. “You make a top chart hit album and now you want to die alone in your riches.”

The words ‘die alone’ made Freddie’s heart pound faster.

“Get out of my fucking house! All of you!” screamed Freddie.

“Freddie what is wrong?” asked Mary.

“You are in my HOUSE!” Freddie cried.

“Stop streaming at her!” said Brian, who got up and took Mary by the hand. “He’s high. Look at him, he's drunk off his ass and hasn’t slept in days. Get your shit together, Freddie.” Brian marched Mary out of the house by the hand, and Roger followed happily. But, Deaky stayed behind, and looked Freddie in the eyes.

“You look scared, Freddie. Are you okay?” asked Deaky.

“John!” screamed Brian.

Deaky hugged Freddie tight and left, shutting the door behind him softly.

Freddie screamed bloody murder at the door, and he let some tears run down his face. He figured his friends would make up some explanation for his wild behavior, but that he was a drunk and a drug addict just hurt. He went back into the kitchen where he went searching through the cabinets for his bottles of wine. Furious he found an empty bottle and broke it on the countertop as he screamed. He grabbed one of the glass shards and put it to his wrist, but a hand grabbed his wrist.

“Breathe,” said Miami.

Freddie let out a few pants.

“Breathe. Drop it.”

The glass fell onto the counter top.

“Step away from the glass. Watch it. You're bare foot.”

Freddie looked where he was going as Miami led him to the living room. Freddie sat down on the couch and pulled his knees into his chest.

“Are you hurt?” asked Miami.

“No,” whispered Freddie.

“Stay here. Don’t touch anything. I am going to clean up the kitchen.”

Freddie laid down, and wrapped himself with a blanket. He let his eyes rest and just relaxed as Miami was in the kitchen. He couldn’t tell if Miami was simply irritated or actually pissed with Freddie but he knew he was in trouble. Freddie sat there for about five minutes before Miami came back and got down on his knees to be eye level with him.

“Freddie, were you going to kill youself or hurt yourself?”

“Hurt myself.”

“Why?”

“I think I have AIDS, and I am going to die, and people don't like people with AIDS, and my friends are already mad at me and… it just seemed like a good idea.”

“Well it’s not a good idea. It won’t make anything go away, and it will create more problems.”

Freddie sighed.

“I am going to hide the knives and tell Joe where they are.”

“Oh please, I can’t be crazy and a fag.”

“You're not crazy. You are under a lot of stress. It will get better.”

“What if it doesn't?”

* * *

The days passed and Freddie felt like he was slowly going crazy. The doctor could say that he was in the sun too much from touring and he just needed surgery and some vitamins, or he could have a disease that would slowly kill him.

Miami found Freddie having a three course meal at two o’clock in the morning and playing the piano at five. Miami was worried about Freddie's mental health, since he had never seen Freddie this wound up and anxious. He was wondering if he could talk Freddie into seeing a clinician after all of this was over.

Finally, the third day had arrived, and every phone call made Freddie jump out of his skin. One was his mother wandering if he would come over for afternoon tea on Saturday. One was the band asking if his mental breakdown was over and if he was coming back to work. Finally, at two o’clock the maid said it was Dr. Moore.

“I can’t talk to him,” said Freddie.

“Okay,” said Miami. He went to the phone. “Hello?...This is his manager Miami Beach… He can’t take calls right now… I see...3:15...He will be there. Thank you doctor.” He hung up the phone.

“I have it,” said Freddie.

“They wouldn’t give the results over the phone. They want to see you at 3:15 to discuss them. It is two o’clock now. You can shower and shave, and we will get you on your way.”

“What is wrong with what I am wearing?”

“Silk pajamas and a bathrobe?”

“If I can't wear this to a hospital where can I wear it to?”

“Shower, shave, and clean clothes.”

“Yes Mother.”


	7. Chapter 7

Freddie took a shower for the first time in three days and was properly dressed, according to Miami, in a white t-shirt, some jeans, clean underwear, and some socks and trainers. Miami drove to the hospital cause Freddie was still a little shaky.

“Do we have to tell the doctor about what happened in the kitchen?” asked Freddie cautiously.

Miami concentrated on the traffic and did not answer Freddie’s question right away.

“We don’t have to tell the doctors about this morning under one condition,” said Miami. “I stay in Lily’s room until I feel, not you feel, that you are well.”

“How are we going to explain this to the band?”

“You are going to have to tell them the truth.”

“No,” said Freddie. “Absolutely not. Not the band. Not Mary.”

“They’re your best friends. Regardless of the results, you are going to have to tell them that you had this test.”

When they got to the hospital, the nurse leads them back to a waiting room where no one was in it. Then in a minute another nurse came back and got Freddie.

“I’ll go by myself,” said Freddie. “I can do this,” he said to himself quietly.

“Okay, I’m right here,” said Miami.

Freddie followed his nurse to the doctor’s office, and there was a sinking pit in his stomach. He actually felt like he was going to throw up, but he decided that he was going to be brave and handle this like an adult. He walked into the doctor’s office, and shook hand with the doctor, and sat down as if on auto-pilot.

“How have you been?” asked the doctor.

“I’ve been better.”

“There is a psychological toll of even just having this test done,” said the doctor. “There are people here who can help you navigate your emotions.”

“Please just put me out of my misery.”

The doctor sighed, “The results are positive.”

Freddie felt his heart stop beating for a second. This was how he was going to die, a slow and painful disease that he got from being gay. He didn’t regret being gay but all his life he felt like God was going to punish him for it, and now his fears were real.

The doctor was talking and Freddie didn’t hear anything but the doctor was pushing a sheet of paper towards him. He thought it was to sign something or it was a donation thing, but then he read it, and he saw that it was research for an AIDS study.

“This could cure me?” asked Freddie.

“We are working towards a cure,” said the doctor. “I want to refer you to Dr. Peters. He is very good.”

Freddie nodded. “Okay, thank you for your time.”

Freddie walked out of the door, and to the lobby. There he picked up Miami, and silently they left and went to the car. Miami got in the driver’s seat and pulled into traffic.

“I’m headed to Garden Lodge,” said Miami.

Freddie nodded.

“Or do you need to eat first?” asked Miami.

“I can eat at home,” said Freddie. “I don’t want to be out.”

Miami nodded.

“Joe can make us some sandwiches. Or we can make our own sandwiches. Am I allowed to be around knives?”

“Let’s let Joe cook.”

“Because I’m crazy.”

“You’re stressed. Okay? And your stress didn’t go down it went up. You tried to hurt yourself this morning.”

“I feel better.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Now that I know that I am dying I can relax. It was not knowing that was killing me.”

“I think you need a couple of days.”

“Who put you in charge?”

“You. You put me in charge.”

“Well, your fired.”

“If you can think straight enough to tell me how to get home, I’ll let you cook.”

“You take a left on King. No, a right on King. Wait, are we close to King? I haven’t driven to this part of town in five years! I demand a different question!”

“Do you want to die?” asked Miami.

Freddie fell silent.

“Freddie, just go home and be still a moment. Okay? Please.”

They rode in silent then Freddie finally recognized where they were. “We are three blocks from home,” he said.

“Yes,” said Miami.

“Okay, we can put up everything until I am feeling better, but how do I go about this?”

Miami pulled into the street where Freddie lived. “Best advice, start by being honest with the band and Mary. They need to know what is going on with you.”

“Right just tell them that I went to the doctor for a fever and a lump and got AIDS, brilliant!”

“Alright, at least tell them you aren’t feeling well so they don’t think that you are drunk on your ass all the time. I mean these treatments are going to make you ill Freddie, you got to tell the band that you’re going to have to take it easy.”

“No. Brian is going to want to know everything, Roger will be pissed, Deaky will cry, and Mary will mother me to death. I want to be left alone.”

“Well, they are going to think that your some ragging drug addict who has neglected your work.”

“Which is why you need to get me bright-eyed and bushy-tailed to the studios on the days when I am not in treatment,” grinned Freddie.

“I need a raise.”


	8. Chapter 8

Freddie woke up and came downstairs to his chef making breakfast.

“Morning Joe,” said Freddie.

“Hey, um, so I get the morning paper and I contacted Miami. He said he is aware of it and he can make it go away.”

Freddie’s stomach sank. “What?”

Joe hesitantly handed Freddie the morning paper. “Page four.”

Freddie flipped, and saw the headline “Ex-Lover Confirms Freddie Mercury is Gay!”

“Try not to panic,” said Joe.

Freddie ran to the loo and vomited all over the toilet. The maid, Janet, came in and slapped Joe on the back of the head.

“You showed him that first thing in the morning?! After everything he has been through?!” she cried.

“I thought he would want to know,” said Joe.

Freddie finished vomiting and tried to clean up the bathroom as best he could for Janet, then he came back out.

“I am not hungry Joe,” said Freddie.

“You need a glass of orange juice for your sugar to be up,” he said. “Throwing up like that.”

“No,” said Freddie. “I’m just going to go to the studio. Trash the newspaper. Tend to the cats, Janet.”

“Of course, sir,” said Janet. 

As he was leaving, he heard Janet slap Joe again. “You got him sick, you ass!”

They were working on an album “The Miracle” and they were all in the writing stage but they were going to the studio to play around on the instruments and see if they could get a sound that they wanted to get. 

“Hey guys,” said Freddie, taking off his jacket.

“Oh so glad you wanted to join us,” said Brian.

“Bri, fuck off and leave me alone, alright.”

“Are you feeling better Freddie?” asked Deaky.

“Not really, but I am well enough to work. Miami is taking care of me.”

“So now you have roped Miami into your little schemes,” scoffed Brian.

“Hang on Bri,” said Roger. “Miami doesn’t like a drunken soiree like Fred and I do. In fact, Fred is actually the level headed one of the band, I don’t think I have ever seen him hungover except that other day. Maybe if Miami is looking after him, something was actually wrong. What’s wrong with you, mate?”

“Nothing. I had a rough day and got drunk. Now are we gonna talk like schoolgirls or are we gonna make music?”

“You had a rough day,” said Deaky. “Like you were depressed?”

“No, I just had a tickle in my throat,” said Freddie.

“What the doctor say?” asked Brian.

“Didn’t go to one,” said Freddie.

“You should go, Freddie,” said Deaky. “Even if it is just a cold you will feel better.”

“So you had a tickle in your throat, but instead of going to the doctor, you got drunk off your ass, and didn’t come to work. For a whole week?” asked Brian. Laughing, he said, “You’re full of shit, Freddie. Do us a favor and formally quit the band before you drink yourself into oblivion.”

“I’m here now aren’t I?” cried Freddie. “Let’s work.”

“Look Brian,” said Roger, “What’s the big deal? He went on a drinking spell and is a little hungover. My god, I did that last month, I apologized and we moved on.”

“I think he was depressed and got drunk,” said Deaky, “But no one wants to listen to me.”

“I think he is acting like a spoiled child,” cried Brian. “You think you are the leader of the band and you can do whatever you like!”

“I am not the leader of the band,” said Freddie.

“You think your more important than us, flitting off to Germany to write your god-damn album!” cried Brian.

“Brian please don’t talk about Germany.”

“Why? Did you work yourself sick there, Freddie? Did Mary have to come to rescue you?”

“Brian!” shouted Deaky. “Calm the fuck down!”

“Let’s work,” said Freddie. “I am going to have to leave at two tomorrow, so I will try to be here at six.”

“Oh,” said Brian. “So you want us to work around your schedule. You know we have wives and children, what have you got?”

“Cats,” whispered Freddie.

Deaky smiled, and so did Roger, but Brian huffed.

“You know what?” asked Brian. “Why don’t we take tomorrow off since you clearly need it.”

Brian shoulder pushed Freddie’s chest as he walked away, and out of the studio. Freddie looked at Deaky and Roger, to try and gaze their reactions at him. Deaky looked sad, and Roger just looked disappointed.

“You need to get off the bottle, Fred,” said Roger, who then turned and walked out.

When it was just Deaky and Freddie alone in the studio, Deaky walked up to Freddie and hugged him.

“Do you want anything?” asked Deaky.

“No,” said Freddie.

“Does Miami know?”

“Yeah.”

“Does Mary know?”

“No.”

“That makes it better.”

“Why?”

“Well, if you’re hiding it from Mary, you’re hiding it from everyone.”

Freddie sighed and nodded.

“Can you tell us soon?”

“I don’t want to ever tell you, but yes, Miami wants me to tell you soon.”

“Tell us soon Freddie. Everyone will stop fighting when you tell us soon.”

“Yes but then I have another problem.”

“What?”

“Everyone will go away.”

Deaky thought for a minute and then hugged Freddie. “I won’t go away, Freddie. Not ever.”


	9. Chapter 9

Freddie actually got some rest with the band angry at him. His first visit with Dr. Peters was a full physical which basically spelled out that Freddie was a very sick young man. Peters was an elderly gentleman in his early seventies with a sharp mind and a kind bedside manner. Freddie liked him a lot.

“I am not exactly young anymore,” said Freddie.

“You're too young to have this,” said Dr. Peters.

“Oh, don’t you doctors tell yourselves that I am a fag and I deserve to die?” asked Freddie, putting his clothes on.

Peters smacked Freddie on the head with the folder he was writing in. “If you want to be my patient, young man, you will cease to talk like that,” Peters declared. “You treat yourself with respect. I don’t think anyone deserves to die, especially from this god-awful disease.”

“You actually think that, don’t you?”

“Yes, that is why I became a doctor.”

“How long can I keep this out of the papers?”

“Oh, probably a long time. You are at the very beginning stages according to your symptoms.”

“How long can I keep this from my friends and family?”

“That will be difficult. Well, depending on how frequently they are around you. You have to go to treatment, and it will get you sick on your stomach. And you will have to start having surgeries as the virus spreads to your extremities, possibly. They will have to find out sooner or later, Mr. Mercury.”

“I am going to start with Sharron.”

* * *

Freddie made arrangements with Elton John for lunch at Freddie’s place that Friday. That morning, Freddie had been at the studio recording with the band and he said that he needed to take a little bit of a break to go have lunch with Elton. Brian and Roger were pissed, but Deaky had suggested that Freddie looked tired and he needed to take the afternoon off. The boys were in agreement, they would reconvene on Monday.

Freddie and Elton had sandwiches and beers for lunch on Freddie’s terrace. 

“So pretty out here,” said Elton.

“Hmm, yeah,” said Freddie. What was he going to do with this place when he…?

“You alright?”

“Yeah, just been so tired recently.”

“You have been acting peculiar recently. I am not quite sure what to make of it.”

“Well, I have a reason, but I don’t quite know what you will make of me.”

“Make of you? Freddie, we have been best friends for god knows how long. Now, what is going on?”

“I… have AIDS,” said Freddie quietly.

Elton sat still for a minute and just took a bite of his sandwich and a swig of his beer.

“Have you had the test or the results because I had the test and…”

“It came back positive.”

“When did you have the test?”

“About a week and a half ago.”

“You could have called. I would have come to stay with you. I know they make you wait for the results.”

“Miami came, and it is best you didn’t see me like that, darling. I was half-drunk out of my mind. I’m giving Miami a raise.”

“Who all knows?”

“Miami and now you. The band thinks I am an alcoholic. And god-knows how I am going to tell Mary.”

“Are you seeing anyone?”

“No.”

“How did you?”

“I think my manager, Paul. I am not talking to him and you can’t make me!”

“Okay, okay, easy. Who is your doctor?”

“This chap named Peters.”

“You trust him?”

“Yeah.”

“You got to tell him everything, Fred.”

“I go back in a week.”

“What do you need?”

“I don’t even know. I tried to slit my wrist during the waiting game, so Miami is moving in until I feel better.”

“Fuck Freddie! Why didn’t you tell me?! I would have been over here.”

“Miami had it handled, and frankly, I didn’t want anyone privy to this fiasco,” he said, taking a swig of his beer.

“You gonna tell your family?”

“I don’t know if I am going to tell the band. Forget my family.”

“Freddie, you got to tell someone. They love you. I have heard horror stories about this illness. In a few years, you're either gonna need someone to take care of you or check into a hospital.”

“I know. I know. Look I don’t want to talk about this right now, darling. Aretha Franklin’s greatest hits came out on 2 discs.”

“You have all those songs.”

“Yes, but now I have them on discs.”

“Micheal Jackson put out something too.”

“Yeah I heard a little bit of it. We are working on something. We are trying to get ready for another tour. No announcements yet, but I want to at least go back to America.”

“You think your doctors will let you go?”

“They don’t get to tell me what to do!”

“Freddie, do you know what AIDS medicine is like? You're not gonna have any strength.”

“Then I won’t take it.”

“Then you die faster, you pillock.”

“What do I do?”

“You get people around you to help you. Like me, when the papers start asking why you aren't making public appearances, I will swim buck naked up the Thames so they change the subject.”

“You're full of shit.”

Elton laughed, and drank his beer, and enjoyed the rest of his afternoon with Freddie. But when he went home that afternoon, Elton wept like a lost child.


	10. Chapter 10

It was the first day of the study, and Freddie had to go at night because he didn’t want it to disrupt the band's schedule.

“Just tell them that you have to step back for a while,” said Miami.

“No,” said Freddie. “Not a damn word to anyone. Just keep my schedule light enough so that I can do this.”

The study was pretty simple. First Freddie was put on the drug zidovudine, it was a new drug, and the doctors did not know what the reaction was going to do to his body. The first thing that Freddie noticed was that the damn thing gave him a headache all the time, but he kept on. All Freddie had to do for the study was take the pill at breakfast and supper with water, and report to the clinic every Friday afternoon for a physical. It wasn’t hard, but keeping it a secret from the band was difficult.

“Where are you going Fred?” asked Roger. “It’s Friday night! We were going down to that pub on West Street.”

“Had a long day,” said Freddie, “bad headache. Maybe I can go home and get some rest and catch you tomorrow.”

“Fine,” huffed Roger.

“I’m sorry, I just don't feel well,” said Freddie, trying to placate him.

“Fred if you don't want to drink with us fine. I’ll see you Monday.”

“What’s wrong with tomorrow?”

“Oh, I think I will have a headache.”

Disappointed Freddie went to the study by himself.

“I don’t know what to do?” rambled Freddie to the nurse as they checked his height and weight for this week. “I am losing my best friends over keeping the secret so I don’t lose my best friends.”

“Sweetie,” said the nurse, “Your friends are going to make up their own stories about you until you tell them the truth.”

“Are you insane?” asked Freddie with a thermometer in his mouth. “I think I’d rather die!”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” said the nurse. “Where are your manners? Have you told anyone?” She took the thermometer out of his mouth. “36.5, you’re fine.”

“I told Sharron.”

“How did she take it?”

“Well.”

“Why won't the boys?”

“Because they're all assholes, well except for Deaky, and I don’t even think he knows what AIDS is.”

“Why not?”

“Because he is pure and sweet and naive. He can’t know.”

“You are going to show physical symptoms. You have already lost a pound.”

“I am not telling them. I just can’t. It will be the death of Queen. It will be the death of me.”

“All right, all right. If you're not ready, you're not ready. That’s fine. But you are aware that as the illness progresses you will not be able to hide it for those you see daily.”

“People keep saying that, but they don't know me.”

* * *

“I have a plan,” said Freddie.

“Oh god,” said Miami.

“They think I am an alcoholic so I can just be an alcoholic. You can arrange interventions for me and I can relapse. It will be smashing!”

“You are not going to act like a fucking alcoholic to get your friends off your back,” said Miami. “You are one of the most respectable men that I know. You are not going to behave like an ass to keep them from finding out about you.”

“So what do you suggest that I do?”

“Tell them the truth.”

“Hell no! Just let them think what they want. If they think that I am a raging alcoholic, then that is what I will become.”

“Freddie!” warned Miami.

“No, you remember that party we threw before I went to Munich, my going away party? Well, we are throwing a coming home party. I want freaks, and contortionist, and erotic dancers, and priest, cause we are going to need to confess.”

“Freddie, you are supposed to be taking it easy.”

“Oh, rubbish. I have an incurable disease. Drink up for tomorrow we die!”

* * *

Freddie’s party was wild, to say the least. Elton came just for a minute to see how Freddie was doing. He said he was worried about Freddie and told Miami to watch out for him. Freddie wore a crown on his head and had a bottle of wine in his hand the whole time as he walked around and talked to guests laughing and dancing.

Roger had fun drinking a lot of wine, but Brian and Deaky kept to themselves and talked. Freddie kept his eye on the door for when she would arrive, and finally, she did.

“Mary!” he cried. He ran to her and spun her around in his arms. “Mary we’re neighbors darling and I haven’t seen you in ages.”

“Freddie you outdid yourself,” she said.

“Sweetheart, come,” said Freddie, and he leads Mary to the bar of cocktails that he had created. “You want a Manhattan?”

“Freddie what in God’s name is this?” asked Mary. “You would never in your life throw such a wild party. Think of the cats.”

“The cats are upstairs,” said Freddie. “Janet is seeing to their every need. Now, what do you want to drink?”

“A water.”

“Your no fun,” Freddie pouted and gave her a water. “I have decided something.”

“What?”

“We are going to redeem our anniversary.”

“Okay.”

“Yes, the proper date is November seventh, 1969. And seeing how it is the end of April, May seventh is the half anniversary, so why don't we go to dinner that night?”

“That sounds wonderful Freddie.”

“It beats waiting another six months. And I am sorry I didn’t call.”

“Freddie, don't hate me for this, but please don’t go rushing off to Munich again. I die when you're away that long.”

“Don’t worry, darling,” said Freddie. “I don’t think I will be flitting off anywhere for a while.”

“It’s a wonderful party, Freddie, what’s the occasion?”

“I don’t know.”

“Freddie, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Please taste this. It’s German.”

“You and your wine,” Mary said rolling her eyes. She tasted the wine and it was quite good. Freddie got her a glass, against her protest, and they danced to the rock’n’roll music.


	11. Chapter 11

“Freddie, we started ten minutes ago!”

“Brian do you want me to shit on the floor? Let me go to the loo.” Freddie rushed to the bathroom while his stomach was churning. He got there in time thankfully and had a bowel movement. After he cleaned himself up and washed off Freddie went back to the recording studio. When he got there the band was having some sort of argument about something, but Freddie didn’t know what it was about.

“Are you okay?” asked Deaky.

“Yeah I’m fine,” said Freddie.

“Fred, what drugs are you on?” asked Roger.

“What?” asked Freddie.

“What drugs are you on?”

“I’m not getting high.”

“Come on Freddie, we’re not stupid,” said Brian.

“I’m not on drugs,” said Freddie.

“Somethings wrong,” said Deaky. “Are you sick?”

“No. Nothing is wrong. I just haven’t felt myself lately.”

“Why?” asked Brian.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Have you told Mary?” asked Deaky.

“No, I told you not yet. I just don’t want to talk about it yet.”

“Freddie,” said Brian. “We can tell you're losing weight.”

“So?”

“You need a clinic. Mary and us have been looking at one for you. There are a few in London, and we can keep it out of the papers.”

“Brian, I am not a drug addict or an alcoholic.” 

“Fred, it’s okay. We understand.”

“I don’t have an addiction!”

“Freddie,” said Deaky, “It’s scary to perform. I understand. We all do.”

“Yeah,” said Roger, “I mean we were just four kids from college. Then all of a sudden we were selling out concerts and worldwide records. I mean Japan was crazy. I thought about getting high.”

“I am not getting high!” screamed Freddie.

“Freddie,” said Brian, “there are doctors that can help you. We want to help you. Mary wants to help you. Just talk to us.”

“I am not on drugs!” screamed Freddie. “There is something else going on you gormless prats, and I was going to tell you over dinner tonight, but now I don’t ever want to speak to you again!”

Freddie stormed out of the recording studio and stomped to his car. 

“Freddie, wait!” cried Roger.

“Freddie, stop!” cried Brian.

“Freddie, we believe you!” cried Deaky.

Freddie turned around when he got to his car and saw all three of them running towards him.

“What time at dinner?” asked Brian.

“Oh fuck dinner, because apparently, I am off to rehab,” stormed Freddie.

“We spoke out of turn mate,” said Roger. “Come on you gonna tell us what is going on or what?”

“I am a drug addict who throws crazy parties, why do you want to have dinner with me?”

“I just said we spoke out of turn,” said Roger. “You never keep secrets from the band. Hell, you told us… “ his voice dropped down to a whisper, “the reason why you and Mary broke up the day after,” then his voice returned to normal volume, “so when you started hiding things you know Brian jumped to the worst-case scenario.”

“I’m sorry this is my fault?” asked Brian. “You were the one who said drugs. I just said he was acting strange.”

“Well, you were the one who got Deaky all in a bind,” argued Roger.

“Okay!” said Freddie, “If I tell you all what is going on will you shut up and leave me alone about the rehab and the drugs.”

“Yes,” said Brian.

Freddie turned around and started walking to the car, then he turned back. “Oh god,” he moaned, “You didn’t tell my parents did you because Papa would kill me and then skin me alive and then kill me again.”

“No, we didn’t tell your parents,” said Roger.

“Well thank god for small favors.”

* * *

Freddie decided on a dinner party that included Miami, Mary, and the band on Saturday night. The attire was formal and everyone got dressed up for the occasion. Freddie served roast chicken with mashed potatoes and gravy and vegetables and everyone dug in. There was fine wine and bread served with the meal, and everyone had a wonderful conversation, and laughter was heard throughout the house.

“Alright, Fred,” said Brian, “There is supposed to be some big unveiling of a big secret that is supposed to explain some of your outrageous behavior of yours.”

“Oh Brian,” complained Freddie, “You're such a bore, we can do that later. I want more wine.”

“Freddie,” said Miami. “I know this is difficult, but I think you have stalled as long as you can.”

“Hey,” said Roger, “How come Miami knows and we don’t?”

“Cause Miami has been taking care of me,” said Freddie.

“Wait,” said Brian. “You are sick?”

“Remember when Mary came and got me from Germany and I had that awful bug?” asked Freddie.

Everyone nodded.

“Well it wasn’t a bug,” said Freddie. “It-”

“Dear God,” said Brian “it wasn’t cancer.”

"No, I don't have cancer," said Freddie.

“So you’re fine?” asked Mary.

“Would you let him talk for fuck sakes!” cried Roger.

Smiling, Freddie reached over and grabbed Roger’s hand, who was crying already. “It’s okay, Roger. I’m okay.”

Roger nodded and composed himself. 

“Well, it was skin cancer, and they can cut it out, but the fact that I got it means that I didn’t have an immune system. So they tested me for AIDS, that’s why I was so out of it for those days those few weeks back. I just got drunk while we waited on those tests. Miami took care of me. Anyway, it came back positive. I have been in treatment for about eight weeks now. This medicine gets me really sick on my stomach, which is why I have been acting so strange. Sorry, I haven’t said anything sooner, I just didn’t know how.”

No one said anything for a minute, and the room was filled with the sound of soft sobs.

“Fred,” said Brian. “I’ve been an ass.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s fucking not. You have been more dedicated than any of us when it comes to music and I know that, so when you said you needed a break I should have known something was wrong. I am ashamed that I thought you were boozing while you were really suffering. I am so sorry.”

“Brian, you didn’t know.”

“So Miami, he told you somehow and you have been helping him?” asked Mary.

“He called me at the hospital where he got the test. He fell ill, mainly from the shock they said. There is a three-day wait for the results, and he told me then because he wasn’t feeling well, and I came and took care of him. Then when he was diagnosed he needed a caregiver, so it made sense for me to stay,” explained Miami.

“I am not mad in the slightest, but why Miami?” asked Mary.

“It’s AIDS. He is the only one I pay to help me that I trust,” said Freddie.

“Wait a fucking minute,” cried Roger. “Are you telling me that didn’t tell us that you had AIDS, or that you were even getting tested, and that you were getting drunk, and sick, and we thought you were losing your mind because we would suddenly decide after twenty years of friendship that we don’t want to talk to you?! I don’t know if I am hurt or pissed? Actually, I am pissed! What the hell Freddie!”

“You don’t know if you are pissed or hurt?” cried Miami. “I just found out my friendship with Freddie is based on money!”

“No that is not what I meant,” said Freddie. “I was scared and confused and Miami is good in those situations and he is faithful.”

“Oh and we’re not faithful?” asked Deaky.

“I got diagnosed with a horrible disease, I called the first person I thought was good at saving my ass. I am sorry you were the first names that came to my mind. Please forgive me!”

“Oh please,” said Mary, “if you were in the same position, you would have called Miami too, Roger.”

“Why?”

“Cause you don’t know what the hell you’re doing and you need Miami to explain every damn thing to you.”

“Yeah pretty much,” said Freddie.


	12. Chapter 12

“You know you can go home tonight,” said Freddie while they were cleaning up. He and Miami were alone in the kitchen washing dishes. “Now that they know, I feel better.”

Miami sighed. “Well, one of the reasons that I stayed here was because I was worried about you hurting yourself. Another reason was that I was worried that you would try to raid the liquor cabinet. Also, there were several days when you just weren’t yourself, eating at three o’clock in the morning, you stayed in your pajamas for three days. You threw a wild party. I just really want to make sure you are okay to be alone.”

“Do you think I need a psychiatric evaluation?” Freddie asked putting a dish up.

“No. You aren’t losing your mind. You're just scared, and upset. I have been talking to Dr. Peters when I take you for the study. This reaction is normal. But it will take a few weeks to get over it.”

“So it wasn’t just telling everyone, but the shock and denial too.”

“Yeah.”

“What are you talking about?” said Brian, coming into the kitchen to grab some few remaining strawberries.

“The weather,” snapped Freddie.

“Fuck, Freddie you want to lie about everything now?” asked Brian. “I thought we were a family, but I guess honesty is just a one way street with you.”

He turned and walked out of the kitchen, and Miami gave Freddie a knowing look.

“What?” asked Freddie.

“They just found out you're sick. They’re scared to death. What is the harm in telling them?”

“Have you met them?” He started to whisper, “I tell Brian or Mary that I tried to hurt myself, and they will never let me out of their sight again, and I mean until I die!”

“Freddie, you have friends who care about you. You got in an argument with them about misunderstanding, and tried to hurt yourself. They need to know that right now you are on an edge and their words can push you over.”

“I’m not fragile,” whispered Freddie.

“No but you're vulnerable. Look if you don’t tell them I will. I am not going to walk in on your body because you four were fighting when you were in shock!”

“Who died and made you Sigmound Freud? I’m fine.”

“Freddie, you tell them or I will.”

“Say a damn word and you're fired.”

Miami took a breath, “Believe it or not, I value your health over money.” Louder he said, “Brian.”

“Yeah,” said Brian.

“You and maybe Mary need to know this,” said Miami.

“Know what?” asked Mary, coming into the kitchen with her plate.

“Nothing,” said Freddie, taking the plate. “I’ll take that, darling.”

“Freddie, what is wrong?” asked Mary.

“During the three day waiting period,” said Miami, “Freddie had a rough time, and I got worried about him, that’s why I stayed here.”

“I am not going to fire you, I am going to kill you,” threatened Freddie.

“Shut up Freddie,” said Mary. “Yeah?”

“The thing that scared me the most was he tried to hurt himself,” said Miami.

Mary clutched Freddie’s arm.

“Mary,” said Freddie. “Darling, I am fine. You're gonna make me drop the plate.”

“Freddie, why?” asked Mary.

“I wasn’t feeling well. Miami stopped me. I am fine. Please let go of my arm.”

“What’s wrong Mary?” asked Deaky, as he and Roger came into the room. “You're about to cry.”

“Freddie tried to hurt himself,” said Mary.

“What the fuck?” said Roger.

“Miami stopped me. I’m fine,” said Freddie.

“No you're not, Freddie,” said Brian. “I think you need to go to a hospital.”

“What?” asked Freddie breathily, backing away from his friends.

“It’s in your best interest,” said Brian, reaching out to grab Freddie.

“Alright,” said Miami. “If we are quite done with the theatrics here. First off, I am in charge. I have the most information, I have been with Freddie the longest during his illness, and Freddie put me in charge. Does that bode well with everyone? If it doesn’t you can kiss my foot.”

“I am not getting theatrical,” said Brian.

“Shut up, Brian,” said Roger.

“Freddie, come here,” said Miami, to which Freddie put the plate in the sink and eagerly obeyed to get away from Brian. “Freddie needs to stay home. He needs someone to stay with him, and since Freddie and I already have a system, I am going to do it.”

“Can I come over and learn the system?” asked Mary. “It makes sense we are next door neighbors and best friends.”

“Sure,” said Miami. “Come tomorrow and I will start going over with you the medicine and doctors appointments.”

“Can I be in charge of recreational activities?” asked Roger.

“Of course,” said Miami.

“Never been to a gay strip club,” said Roger. “Might learn a few things.”

“Roger, you're fired from recreational activities,” said Freddie.

“Come on,” said Roger.

“Are you insane?” asked Brian. “Recreational activities? You have lied to us for three months. You are in a study where you are getting poked and prodded. You are going to DIE for Christ sake. You can’t go out, you will catch pneumonia or some other god forsaken disease. You need to be in bed, Freddie.”

“Roger, you are rehired as director of recreational activities,” said Freddie.

“Yes!” cried Roger.

“Go to hell, Brian. You know where the door is,” said Freddie angrily, and he went to his room.


	13. Chapter 13

Freddie just laid in bed and tried to think what to do. Miami had taken his razer, promising to give it back when he felt better. Right now Freddie felt like shit. Brian thought he was psychotic, Mary was grieving him already, and he just felt like the whole night was a disaster.

There was a knock on the door. Moaning, Freddie got up and went to get it. He opened the door and there was Roger grinning from ear to ear.

“What Roger?” asked Freddie.

“As Director of Recreational Activities, I declare that we go get a drink,” said Roger proudly.

Laughing, Freddie said, “Okay.”

“At a gay bar.”

“Roger, you're straight.”

“Well, we don’t tell people that! Now what do I wear?”

“Whatever you want. It’s not a drag bar.”

“Okay. Let's go.”

* * *

In hindsight, maybe Freddie shouldn’t have take Roger to his favorite gay bar, but that was another disscussion for another day.

“Just follow my lead,” said Freddie.

“I can act gay,” said Roger.

“No, your not gay. You're curious. You have never been to a bar like this before and you have half a mind to run screaming from the room. If you start acting like you have done this all your life you are going to get us thrown out.”

They got out of Freddie's Mercedes and walked in. Freddie walked through the club to find a booth at the back. While they were walking, Roger saw all the men dancing with each other, some were simply grinding onto one another, and others were almost having sex. Everyone was clothed, but barely.

“This is fantastic,” said Roger.

“You're here to observe,” said Freddie.

“Can I dance? Please?”

“Absolutely not. I am going to go get us some drinks.” Freddie walked over to the bartender and ordered a Vodka Tonic for himself and a Budwiser for Roger. The bartender made the drinks fast and Freddie turned around and ran right into another guy.

“Shit!” cried Freddie.

“Damn didn’t know you were doing that,” said the man. “Let me buy another round.”

“It was my fault,” said Freddie. “Didn’t watch where I was headed.”

“We could argue all day,” said the man, “Seriously, let me buy you some drinks. I insist.” He shuffled up to the bar. “Alright chap we had a mishap, so we need whatever he got again, and a Guinness.”

“Alright, coming up.”

“Thank you, um…” started Freddie. 

“Jim," answered the man.

“Jim. You with anyone?”

“No.”

“Come have a drink with me and my friend.”

Jim raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, we're not together. He’s curious. He just wanted to see what all the fuss was about.”

Jim looked at Freddie like that was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard in his life. The bartender got their drinks.

“Come on,” said Freddie, grabbing the drinks and leading the way. He looked back, and sure enough Jim was following. When they got to the table, Roger was gone.

“Where is he?” asked Freddie sitting down.

Just then Roger came up. “Where have you been, Freddie? I have danced with two men!”

Freddie shook his head, they were going to get thrown out for sure. “Roger, this is Jim,” said Freddie, “And I got our drinks.”

“Hi,” said Roger, shaking Jim’s hand.

“Dennis!” called a man.

“Okay, that’s me,” said Roger, and disappeared into the crowd.

“I don't know what to make of him,” said Freddie.

Jim laughed and sat down. “So,” he said. “Where are you from?”

“My family is from Zanzibar, an island of the coast of Africa, but we have been in England since I was eighteen due to strife in the country. That was almost fifteen years ago.”

“I’m from Ireland. Carlow, Ireland on the southern end.”

“Been to Dublin. It’s pretty there.”

“Miss it. But I love London.”

“Want to dance?”

“Yeah.”   
  


They left their drinks and Freddie lead the way to the dance floor holding Jim’s hand. Once they arrived, Freddie took the lead as they danced to a pop song. Jim third to keep up as Jim got really playful pulling Jim in close. They danced several dances together, and Freddie’s courage was growing. After a minute, Freddie got bold, and planted a soft kiss on Jim's lips. Jim broke away from the dance and stood there for a minute.

“You're bold,” cried Jim, and he began to walk away.

“Wait!” cried Freddie. “I am sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. I am sorry.”

“You don’t get to know people before you kiss them?”

“Your Jim from Ireland.”

“And you're Freddie the whore. You just want someone you can fuck.”

“No wait!” cried Freddie.

“I am not going home with you.”

“I know,” Freddie said. “Look sex is off the table, but can we just have coffee tomorrow?”

“You're an adolescent. Call me when you grow up.”

That night Freddie was sober enough to drive home, and Roger was in the passenger seat half drunk out of his mind.

“This was fun, Freddie,” slurred Roger. “Can we do it again?”

“No,” said Freddie. “I’ll be damned if I ever go out again in my life.”


	14. Chapter 14

Freddie was asleep and his dreams kept drifting back to the Irishmen who he was dancing with. Jim was well built, had kind eyes, and was light on his feet. Freddie was quite taken with him, But like everything in Freddie’s life, he ruined it.

“Your just looking for someone to fuck!” cried Jim.

“I’m sorry,” panted freddie.

“You're a slut!”

“No.”   
  


“Freddie,” cooned Paul.

“No,” moaned Freddie.

“Come here my little slut!”

“No!” cried Freddie.

“Where are you Freddie?”

Freddie tried to stay quiet.

“Got you!” cried Paul.

Freddie screamed.

“Freddie! Freddie!” cried someone. “Freddie, wake up!”

Freddie woke up in his room with Miami standing over him. The lamp was on beside his bed, and Miami was peering down at Freddie with concern in black sweatpants and a blue bathrobe.

“You were screaming bloody murder,” said Miami. “You know the doctor said this new drug could make you have some weird dreams.”

“It's not the drugs. The man I met in the bar said something that reminded me of Paul. He didn’t mean anything by it. I was the one acting like an ass. Why do I do that? Mess up a sure thing.”

“Paul was not a gentleman. He was rough with you and called it being romantic. You equated that with love. You have to unlearn that. You were just a kid when you met Paul. Someone has to teach you what love is.”

“I was fine with Mary.”

“Paul wasn’t in the picture. I am telling you your brain’s been…”

“Broken?”

“Rewired. You got to learn how to fall in love. Like tonight, it wasn’t just about sex with that guy, you were talking about where you were from and your histories.”

“Yeah.”

“So why did you make a move so fast?”

“Well, that’s how Paul would um.”

“Let me ask you something? Was your first homosexual experience Paul?”

“No.”

“Long term.”

“Oh yeah.”

“That’s your problem. The person who taught you how to navigate this world is a psychopath. Did you like what Paul did to you?”

“It scared me.”

“Did you and Paul talk a lot or was it a lot of sex?”

“A lot of sex.”

“See that’s not a relationship. That’s well… I think it's a criminal act but I will let you decide that. Anyway, that was what Jim was saying. Normally, you don't worry about the physical aspect of a relationship when you first meet, not if you want a relationship to go anywhere. You get to know him first.”

“I know he’s from Ireland.”

“Okay, great. What else do you know about him?”

Freddie drew a blank. “Oh, my god, that's what he meant.”

“It’s okay,” said Miami. “You're still learning how to date.”

“What do I do?”

“Chalk it up to a learning experience and go to bed. You got that study in the morning, if you feel well enough to go.”

Sighing, Freddie nodded. “Fine,” he whispered. “Thank you Miami.”

“Good night Freddie.”

Freddie slept peacefully the rest of the night until it was time for him to wake up to go to the study. But with only four hours of sleep, he drank three cups of coffee so that he could keep his eyes open.

“Okay, I’m ready,” said Freddie.

“You look like you are in a boxing ring,” said Miami.

“I feel like I am in a boxing ring. I could fight anyone right about now.”

“Oh dear god. Come on let's go, Ken Buchanan.”

“Oh, I love him.”

Miami shook his head, and led caffeine-rush Freddie to the car. Freddie tried to get into the driver's seat of the Rolls-Royce, but Miami put him in the passenger seat.

“You never let me drive,” said Freddie. “What the hell is wrong with me now?”

“You are so hopped up on coffee that you couldn’t pass a drug test.”

“I bought this car! I demand to drive it!”

“Freddie if you can buckle yourself up, you can drive.”

“Fine,” Freddie tried to buckle his seatbelt, but his hands were shaking so much he was missing the buckle. “Miami I’m scared.”

“Take a deep breath.”

Freddie breathed deep and tried again. He got it this time. “Okay, I can go know.”

Rolling his eyes, yet smiling, Miami took Freddie to the clinic. Because he was on a caffeine rush, they gave Freddie a banana and some water and waited until his heart rate dropped a little bit to draw the blood.

“Oh fuck,” cried Freddie when he saw the blood and his world went black.

* * *

“Freddie. Freddie. Time to get up.”

Freddie woke up and he was lying back in a chair with his feet elevated and Miami was looking at him with a shit-eating grin.

“What?”

“Next time you have a rough night, we need to cancel the study and push it back a day. Not get hopped up on caffeine.”

“Why are you laughing?”

“You're really graceful when you pass out. You kind of just laid back and went to sleep.”

“I didn’t pass out.”

“Yeah you did.”

“Shut up. You didn’t tell anyone?”

“No.”

“Good, cause if you did I would have fired you.”

“They want you to stay still a minute then we can go home.”

“Okay.”

Freddie ate something again, and then they let him go home. He was a lot calmer on the ride home, but Miami still didn’t let him drive.

“Why am I so tired?” moaned Freddie.

“You had a rough night, then you passed out at the study.”

Freddie moaned. “Make yourself at home. I am going to bed.”

“Dr. Peters will be here in an hour for an exam.”

“Fuck!”


	15. Chapter 15

Freddie led Dr. Peters into the kitchen so they could sit at the breakfast bar for Freddie’s examination. 

“Are you growing out your beard?” asked Dr. Peters.

“Uh, yeah, just a little bit,” said Freddie.

“When did you last shave?”

“About three weeks ago, maybe a little more.”

Freddie sat down at the bar, and Peters set his bag on top of the bar. Peters put the blood pressure cuff on Freddie’s arm, and started to squeeze the bulb. Freddie’s blood pressure was a little elevated, just 125/79, nothing to worry about. Peters thought it could really be white coat syndrome but they were at Freddie’s house.

“Let me take your pulse.” Peters gently touched Freddie’s wrist, and he watched his watch. Freddie’s pulse was normal. 

“Alright, I am going to listen to you breathe for a minute,” said the doctor. Freddie took off his t-shirt, as Peters put the ball of the stethoscope on Freddies naked back, and moved it around every half minute. After three minutes, he had Freddie put his shirt back on. 

“Been sleeping well?”

“Had a nightmare last night. It’s kind of been off and on.” 

“Okay. How have you been eating?”

“The medicine has been getting my stomach sick.”

“Got your papers from the study last Friday?” Freddie handed him the paper. “You have lost ten pounds since I’ve seen you.”

“Yeah.”

“I need to up your anti-nausea medicine.”

“The study is almost done. I have signed up for another one.”

“I want you to rest two weeks, and then you can do what you want. What was your nightmare about?”

“I don’t know, an ex boyfriend thing.”

“What happened?”

“We did things on his terms.”

“You mean you couldn’t say no?”

Freddie nodded.

“Alright, I am going to take your temperature,” said Dr. Peters and put a thermometer in Freddies mouth. “I think you should go see a therapist.”

“Nmm Nmuh!” cried Freddie.

“Don't talk with your mouth full,” said Dr. Peters. “I am not saying every week, just enough where people around you feel safe that you are going to be alright. I mean Miami told me you attempted to harm yourself.” He took out the thermometer. “No fever.”

“I’m fine,” said Freddie.

“Well just to make sure, I think we should have you see a therapist. I know a good one, Dr. Jenkins. He’s a friend of mine. You would like him.”

“I think I am fine.”

“Alright, suit yourself. Let's see you haven't been to the doctors in a while for a physical.”

“Haven't needed to.”

“None of your shots have been updated. You need flu, Tdap, Pneumonia, HPV, PCV, Hep A and Hep B.”

Freddie swallowed hard. “You're not gonna give me seven shots, are you?”

“Actually, the science says that it is best for the body to get vaccinated all at one time to get used to the medicine. Can you remove your trousers?”

“What?”

“Your jeans, can you slide them down?”

“I know what trousers are. Why am I getting seven shots in my ass?”

“Well, if I do it in your arm, you will lose movement in it from the soreness. With the posterior having a bigger surface area, you will feel better faster.”

Freddie gritted his teeth, and unzipped his jeans, only pushing them down a little way. Dr. Peters pushed them down farther, and got seven vials out of his bag.

“Oh, you came prepared, you asshole,” cried Freddie.

“I can make this hurt, or I can be gentle. And you will need to pull your pants down farther, unless you want to be sore as hell tomorrow.”

Freddie did as instructed, and the doctor stuck him once, and Freddie hissed. Then again. Then again, and again, and again, until the doctor gave Freddie all seven of his shots. Finally Freddie could pull up his jeans.

“You will feel ill tomorrow,” said Peters. “If you have fever, chills, or vomiting, ring me.”

“I am never speaking to you again.”

“Do you want a lollipop?”

“I want vodka!”

Peters chuckled. “So tell me about wanting to hurt yourself.”

“Why?”

“Because I am concerned. You might need a hospital.”

“I don’t need a damn hospital.”

“Well, tell me what happened so I can feel confident you are safe.”

“It was when I first got diagnosed. Actually during the waiting game. I was getting drunk, really just scared. My friends were calling me an alcoholic, and I grabbed a knife in the kitchen. Miami stopped me.”

“How do you feel now that you have the virus?”

“Pretty frightened, but life has to go on.”

“Do you want to hurt yourself now?”

“It comes and goes.”

“Are you living by yourself?”

“No, Miami is staying over. His wife probably thinks he is having an affair.”

“I want the knives and the alcohol up.”

“What’s wrong with booze?”

“It’s a depressant, and it can increase suicidal thoughts.”

“I’m not putting the alcohol up.”

“You're not too young for a prostate exam,” threatened Peters.

“Listen, you pompous-”

“I’ll put the alcohol up!” cried Miami from the other side of the door.

“Good,” said Peters. “You should probably talk to someone to make sure you are okay. There is a good therapist I know, Jenkins. I can have him call you with an appointment.”

“Not interested,” said Freddie.

“Wasn’t a question. Get some rest. Stay away from alcohol. Let Miami set up an appointment with Jenkins, and soon you will start feeling better. Cheerio.” And he left to go out the front door.

“Thank you doctor,” called Miami.

“Fired! Everyone is fired!” screamed Freddie. “You, out of my house.”

“Sir, Brian has half a mind to take you to a hospital. Now, I don’t think the situation is that dire, but I do think you need to talk to someone.”

“Never!”

“Alright, I’ll see what Mary had to say on the subject.”

“Mary doesn’t tell me what to do.”


End file.
